I’m not a fan of doctors. I’ve never had posters of them on my walls. I’ve never purchased a pack of doctor trading cards either. They’re not people who I generally enjoy being around.
Of course, if you’re near a doctor, chances are you’re already sick. But I’m not even talking about that. Instead it’s the personality of these over sung heroes that I would like to discuss in today’s edition of Shitheads I Encounter in Life. It’s not a new edition or anything. More of a summary of my entire life. I meet lots of Shitheads. Doctors always make the list.
My first doctor memory is me lying on a cold metal table, my family all surrounding me looking down, as an older man plays with my nads. I know it didn’t happen that way. In my memory, my family was looking down at me like aliens look at abductees. I’ve read that sometimes people suppress alien abductions and have thought that maybe this was one. But why grab my testicles? Aliens are gross.
My childhood pediatricians were a Jewish couple with their own practice. My mom hated them and I’m not sure why. She would encourage us to pretend to do a drive-by shooting whenever we would pass by them. She especially liked when I used an invisible flame thrower to kill our Jewish doctors. Grenades were my favorite to pretend to throw at them. We all had a RAGE LAUGH!!! about this.
All I remember about the office was that all of the nurses smoked and toads lived in the nearby woods. All nurses smoke apparently. That’s like a stereotype. I usually think nurses are pretty cute. They’re always tuckered out from working 12 hour shifts. Their work uniform looks like my pajamas. It’s adorable! All they need are teddy bears instead of cigarette packets and I’d be all in on nurses. Yellow teeth scare me so that’s why nurses are on me Not-To-Do List.
My Jewish doctors got a divorce at some point. I’m not sure what the divorce was about. Maybe testicular exams lasting too long and the other got jealous. We left there and I got a new doctor, an Indian whose son went to my school. I never really liked him that much. He blamed everything on me being too fat. I hurt my leg during gym class and he asked me how much weight I had gained recently. He’d always end our meetings by saying “I think you vill do very vell” saying v’s instead of w’s. I guess I did turn out okay, so in hindsight he was a smart man. No thanks to him though. Telling a 10-year-old not to eat salty foods isn’t a solution. Especially when he just got a giant container of salty snacks for his birthday. My favorite gift ever of all time still is and always will be a giant container of cheese balls. It had to be 10 pounds of round cheese doodles. If I was to give up salty snacks then I would have to turn down my nice gift. That’s rude. I don’t know how they celebrate Christmas in India, but here in the USA we accept all gifts. Not like those Canadians who have a holiday the next day where they return everything. Pessimistic bastards.
My only other complaint about the Indian man was that he grabbed my testicles too hard. He reached down my tighty-whities and didn’t so much check for testicle tumors, but instead tried to crush my nuts. It really hurt and I wanted to say something. I think he also got some curry in my pee hole because it started to burn. I stopped going to him when he told me I was his oldest patient by 5 years. We said goodbye and I got a lollipop and a picture book before leaving. I got into my car and drove away from my pediatrician. It was time to grow up.
I don’t have health insurance like you Canadians. Healthy bastards. I still guess I have a doctor though. I’ve gone to him twice and I know a lot of people who go to him. He’s never asked to grab my testicles so I guess I like him. He’s also very quick and I remember there was a fat nurse there that was really nice to me. Too bad it would cost me a week’s pay to get headache medicine. Otherwise I’d go there more often.
There are still more doctors that I’ve encountered in my life as I have had a multitude of problems. I had a leg doctor when I broke my leg in back-to-back years. He always had one of those Home Alone 2 devices where he would record whatever it was that he said. He’d end his statements by saying “period” and I always thought that was funny. He was really saying everything the way it should be typed, punctuation and all. There was another Indian man who worked there that would sing “Fill Me Up Buttercup”, the song from There’s Something About Mary. I liked that place. There were pictures of athletes that they had treated on the walls and it made me feel like a real sports star when I went in there after breaking my leg playing baseball. A man in his 30s scared me by saying that if I was his age my leg would never heal. That place was a good place and I’m thinking my subconscious told me to break my leg often in order to go there. They also didn’t make fun of me too much when I didn’t know how to use crutches properly. I assumed you were supposed to walk normally until you got too tired and could use the crutches to lean on for a rest. I’d like to blame that on a mental injury, but I can only blame it on being a dumb kid with no way of understanding physics. I should have had my neck broken to put society out of its misery.
Out of all of the doctors I have had, my favorite was my allergist. He had a lot of pictures of sinuses which always makes my eyes water, but other than that he was great. He was a friendly older man and his nurse said she liked me arms because they had meat on them. Everyone that worked there was always really nice. I was like the cool kid that would come in to give them a break from all the geezers who couldn’t handle being around their cats. I went there for years, getting two shots in each arm every week for my allergies. Eventually my allergies got a bit better and the doctor moved to Florida, as all older people do. His replacement was a young Indian woman, and out of fear of her handling my testicles without a delicate touch, I retired from having allergy shots. I didn’t call a press conference or do any other showboating move. My retirement was quiet and I think the people who worked there that knew me figured that I had died from sniffing pollen.
Doctors are a weird thing. I could never be one. I could never even imagine wanting to be one. They really are a special breed of person. What do failed doctors do though? To be a doctor, you have to be really smart. I’ll probably never know someone who grew up to become a doctor. That’s pretty amazing and shows you how stupid the rest of us are. Such a necessary job is so difficult to learn to do. They make a lot of money and I think they deserve it all. The vacations, not so much. Ease up on the travels buddy, maybe it’s you bringing back mosquitoes that’s getting everyone so sick.
Maybe it’s not doctors that I dislike. It’s the people who want to become doctors that I want to kick in the face. The careers that we all dream of are the ones that usually have effected us personally. Wannabe psychiatrists usually have had rough childhoods. Real special. Like we don’t all have it rough. Wannabe filmmakers usually are nerds who enjoy watching movies alone. Just because you like something doesn’t mean you’ll be good at it, stupid. Medical doctors are people who should want to do the job to help people. Not to make up for a past mistake like not being able to help a sick grandmother, they should do it for all of humankind. Not just their stupid family illnesses. But, who am I to stop someone from becoming something good like a doctor instead of a professional skateboarder? We need doctors. Even if they’re assholes sometimes, take too many vacations, or don’t know how to properly handle little boy scrotum beans, we need them. Unless you believe in Voodoo. Then all you need is a doll, a sewing needle, and a potion that’s 95% shampoo. People still believe that shit! And they drive cars, fly on airplanes, and cry at sad movies. A doll doesn’t control your destiny, a doctor’s competence does.
“Is there a doctor in the house? Yes there is, my son Mort.” – Proud Jewish Mother